


Quest of the Dunes

by la_reine_rouge



Series: Adventures in Salaria [3]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Quest of the Dunes - Freeform, first installment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_reine_rouge/pseuds/la_reine_rouge
Summary: In a world where magic reigns king and monsters live to crush their mortal enemies, things are only as beautiful as they are superficial. Danger lurks in every shadowy corner, and the monarchs of the various kingdoms are the only ones who can truly protect their people. The first born prince of each magic-blessed royal family must adventure out on Quests to destroy these dangers and gain the riches their country needs to survive. However, Salaria does not have a prince. Instead, it has but one princess, a young woman named Aranathi who has just come into her majority. As the only heir to the throne of Castle Salazar, Aranathi must endure these dangerous Quests to protect her home. Of course, her trusty warrior, guardian, and friend Cairo tags along all the while, along with several other companions she makes along the way.Follow Aranathi and Cairo as they Quest through Salaria's lands to save her people.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the book that started it all. The prologue is going to seem sort of out of place with the rest of the novel, but it provides some background for the two most important characters, Aranathi and Cairo. These are my girls, my faves, and I love them more than any of the other characters that I've created over the last decade. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

She was bored. Bored and lonely. She was bored of being lonely, too. Really, it seemed like those were the only two words to possibly describe her at this point. There was only a limit to what a child could handle, and this child had long passed that. Pouting like a professional, she crossed her little arms in sharp defiance and stared steely daggers at the too-flustered maid kneeling in her skirts on the ground before her.

“When is Daddy coming home?”

“I’m afraid I know not, Your Highness, but please stop frowning so harshly. Your father would most certainly not want to see such a sad expression twisting your beautiful features. Wrinkles do not suit royalty, haven’t you heard such a thing before?”

The distressed princess pouted harder just to spite her least favorite handmaiden. “I want Daddy and I want him now. Get him for me.”

The poor maiden looked like she was about to cry or scream, or maybe even both – one could never be too sure when it came to her. After all, the princess knew full well how to make her do both. “I’m afraid I cannot, Your Highness; the king’s exact location at this moment is unknown, and even if I did know and were able to send a post, there would be no guarantee that it would get to him before he started to head back home on his own time. Please, just be patient for a little while longer.”

Patience was not a virtue she possessed, everyone knew that. The princess pouted even harder, if that was even physically possible, and slouched in her chair. Immediately the handmaiden squawked like an enraged eris at her about her awful posture, but she just slid down even further in response in an effort to nearly bury herself in the best cushions and downy pillows her father could buy for her. She wanted her daddy, and she was going to either get him now or she was going to disappear into the netherworld of her chair. 

Even at seven years old, Aranathi was not normally a brat. Of course, she had been raised as such. She was a princess by blood; she couldn’t afford to be whiny or bratty or spoiled, though she was certainly the latter despite the king’s best efforts. Whenever her father, or even her “uncle,” were around she was a perfect angel – well-behaved, delicate, poised – but when they were not, it was nearly impossible to rein her in and quiet her down. Even Nova had been bustling around the castle since she awoke this morning, which meant that her only mother-figure hadn’t paid attention to her for nearly the entire day – three strikes, and she was out. A whole eighteen hours with minimal supervision and certainly pathetic amounts of attention left the young princess with a burning need to start a fuss. Arly, kneeling before her with her hands raised almost in prayer, had not even the slightest chance in Otaea at calming her down from the rioting she was trying to commit.

Of course, she was only a child. There was very little she could do in the grand scheme of things, even if she tried her hardest. It was a fact that drove her almost crazy with frustration. Every night she went to sleep, she prayed to the Great Goddess Zanu to give her body strength from the universe to age ten years, minimum. Her wish had yet to be granted, of course, and that alone drove her almost as crazy as her being too young.

Not that it would really matter soon, considering that she was about ready to fall asleep where she sat, and then Arly would almost certainly pick her up, manhandle her out of the pale blue dress she had stained from digging around in the flowerbeds of the private garden behind the castle, and then put her to bed where she would sleep restlessly, not knowing if her father had made it home or not, and her nightmares would run wild. It had been two years since her mother’s murder, but the fear that she would be awoken once again in the middle of the night by a tear-stained Nova or Uncle Morg was one that still crippled her sleep. 

Just as she was about to throw another fit, accompanied by several poorly muffled yawns but that was beside the point, the door to her room was flung open unceremoniously and all her tiredness was suddenly gone in a flash. Aranathi immediately bolted upright, ignoring the second flurry of squawking from her overzealous nursemaid. She knew already who had arrived, and she was almost as excited to see him as she was to know what gifts he had brought for her. Her small body was already flying over the arm of the chair and springing towards the dark figure standing tall in the doorway. Giggling like a hyena, the child torpedo leapt straight from the ground into his arms, and her father’s knight spun her around through the air a few times before putting her back down gingerly. His bare hand came down lightly on her head, gently ruffling her hair without messing it up as only he could do. The smile on her face was blinding when she tilted it up for him to see.

“Good evening, princess,” Morrigan said with great affection, the only emotion he ever showed to her, “your father wishes to see you in his chamber, if that is alright?”

He had barely finished his sentence before Aranathi was darting down the hall, her high-pitched peals of laughter growing in volume the closer she came to the door at the end of the hall, guarded simply by two men in light castle armor. They nodded to her and moved to the sides of the door frame in one smooth moment and with clicks of their heels, and the princess went barging inside, a whirling tornado of childlike wonder that came to an abrupt stop when she realized that the room was nearly pitch black. It was the light from the hall that allowed her to see the scene from inside. Her eyes scanned the room quickly and landed on a small form in the back corner of the room moments before eventually reaching the kneeling form of her father. He seemed to be turning one way then the other, and then maybe back again but she wasn’t quite sure. The young king truly seemed at a loss, so finally he turned to face his daughter and smiled as wide as he extended his arms. “Ara, darling.”

Continuing her whirlwind of blissful innocence, Aranathi dove into his arms and hugged him tight as she could manage. For all her fronting, she did love her father more than anything. He, like his knight, picked her up and spun her around before turning his back to the open door and crouching down once more. Her father perched her neatly on his knee as he extended his arm out to the form in the back corner. It was then that the princess’s attention was drawn back to what she had first seen, and her golden-brown eyes brightened in curiosity. 

The king’s voice was soft, warm, encouraging as he spoke to the shape. “Come now, little one, no one’s going to hurt you. It was just my daughter – she was excited to see me, you see, and that’s normally how we greet one another after any time apart. My apologies; I was going to warn you but she beat me to it... come, come, you’re quite alright. That’s it, come along.”

Slowly the form moved closer, and as it drew nearer to the light from the hall Aranathi saw that it was a young girl, one who looked to be about her age and size. She seemed to be quite scared, too, with the way she was wringing her hands and couldn’t seem to bring herself to look upwards from her feet. The other girl stopped just outside the reach, her toes peeking ever so slightly over the edge between shadow and light, and Aranathi’s eyes were drawn to the harsh scratches and dark bruises marring her ankles and the parts of her legs not shielded by the short, flimsy dress she wore. Immediately, a pang struck her youthful chest, and she slid from her father’s knee before he could even think to react, reaching out towards the small girl with a gentle expression on her face. The king almost grabbed for his daughter, unsure how his guest would react, but then thought better of it as she made her approach.

“Hey,” she said softly and the other girl jumped as though startled, her eyes flicking hesitantly towards the princess before flitting away again. They were a startling color, as bright as some of her mother’s jewelry, and seemed to almost glow in the shafts of light perforating the atmosphere of the room. Aranathi reached out a little further but didn’t move otherwise, especially when the other girl flinched slightly away in return. “Hey. Wanna be friends?”

The other girl looked at her with surprise, finally straight into the face, and for a brief moment Aranathi found herself drowning in the pure golden irises staring out from under a messy fringe of hair. She was enraptured by them, caught in the swirl of color and the heavy gravity of them that drew her in, and found herself wondering if this was the true color of the sun. She certainly had that same sort of energy. Aranathi’s hand extended further almost subconsciously and she took a sliding step forward, smiling wider in afterthought when the other girl didn’t move away again. She still, however, did not speak – so the princess decided she would just do it until the other girl felt more comfortable.

“I’m Aranathi, princess of Salaria. This is my castle, and this is my papa.” Aranathi started off the conversation with a light tone, the way she would talk to an abused animal, the way she spoke to the little bift that warmed her toes at night. As she spoke, she slid a little closer, until she was finally within reach. “What’s your name?”

Those golden eyes flitted down to her outstretched hand, then back down to her face. She swallowed hard before forcing out one word, so softly it was barely audible. “C-Cairo.”

Cairo. What a beautiful name. Fitting, too, for her appearance. After the land of the goddesses, no doubt, all golden sand and red-hot sun, and the beautiful women who decided whether it rained or scorched and when the moon rose and the sun fell. Aranathi wondered if Cairo knew about her namesake, for she didn’t speak of it in the same reverence that she would have imagined, but maybe the novelty had just worn off after years of speaking the same name over and over again. No matter – the young princess decided then and there that she would help remind her new friend about the marvelous land she was named after. 

Aranathi felt a thrill of excitement run through her when she finally got close enough to brush her fingers against the soft skin of Cairo’s arm, and when the other girl flinched but didn’t pull back, those gentle fingertips trailed downwards and looped carefully around her small hand. A tremor ran through them both. For a moment, the princess was lost in the feeling of the pale hand in her own, feeling as though there was so much more coursing in the air between them than just a brief warning of “stranger.” There was something else, something powerful and consuming, something that drew her even closer. Aranathi’s mouth was moving before she could even think about what she was saying; not that she would have changed it later, of course.

“Hey, Cairo, wanna be friends?”

Cairo looked at her for a brief moment before those golden eyes slid down to their clasped hands. A tiny, hesitant smile curled her pale lips. “S-sure.”

She said yes! With a laugh to brighten up the room, Aranathi yanked her new friend forward and into her arms. Cairo in turn gave a small, frightened shriek as her body moved of its own accord, landing solidly against the slightly smaller princess but not nearly enough to bowl her over. Now that she was out of the darkness, her hair caught the light and turned ruby, red as fresh-spilled blood. The princess was fascinated, but wrapped her arms quickly around the other girl’s waist to keep her from making her inevitable escape. Cairo seemed frightened of the brightness, of the contact, of the embrace, but Aranathi just held her tighter against her and smiled into her neck. She had a friend! A friend who actually wanted to be by her side, not because she was ordered to be. It was a first for the princess, and she wasn’t about to let her new friend wander away so soon.

It seemed like ages before Cairo finally moved again, even just to breathe. Gradually, the stiff body against her own relaxed and molded around the thin frame. Too-thin arms twined protectively around the princess’s slim waist, holding her just as tightly, maybe even a little tighter, as Aranathi herself was. Cairo leaned slightly into the embrace, wary, but Aranathi just shifted her stance and kept her grip steady. They were holding each other up, supporting each other. Like an a-frame, they stood together, feeding off the remote strength of the other. Something wet hit her shoulder, followed shortly by another and another, but Aranathi didn’t comment on any of them. She just stood still and held her new friend, finally feeling like she was no longer lonely.

Maybe, just maybe, her new friend felt the same way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first "real" chapter of Salaria, where they're of age. This is, admittedly, more of a filler to build some understanding of the world and the main characters you'll see. 
> 
> Thanks for being patient with updates, it's been a busy season.
> 
> As per usual, if you have any questions, comments, or revisions please feel free to reach out and let me know!

Life in the castle was a boring one, if she did say so herself, no matter what sort of a day it was. Normal days were filled with the same old ins and outs, nothing new, nothing surprising. She was given a schedule to keep, one that was likely the exact same or similar as the one before, and she was expected to follow it. Even on an abnormal day such as this, everything was dictated to the utmost – in fact, it was even more strict, more regulated. 

Had this been a normal day, she would be saddled with only one follower who tailed her throughout the castle corridors. There would be no escape from her stalker, but she was at least allowed some semblances of freedom. Today, however, today there was nowhere she could go where she was not followed by at least three people – usually, two guards and a handmaiden – and it was steadily grating on her feelings of independence and self-pride. If her father would just trust her to do her chores and mind her own business… but then, she knew full well why he didn’t. She’d already proven for nearly two decades that, if given the opportunity, she would absolutely take the chance to shirk all responsibility and run away. This was probably for the best, really, if she was to think about it logically. The king was probably sick and tired of his daughter’s antics, but that was hardly her problem. She was his darling little daughter, which meant every problem he had with her was his own as well.

What was her problem, however, was that she found herself in dire need of the restroom, and she was a lady. A princess, at that. She absolutely did not want three people (especially not two of her father’s men!) standing inside with her – or even outside, where they could hear everything that happened and she couldn’t glare them into silence, the jury was still out on which was worse.

“Look, just, just walk down the hall a little ways, and wait for me down there.” Aranathi was growing increasingly frustrated at their impertinence. Suddenly, she understood why her father hated her stubbornness more than anything: it was aggravating as all hell to request something and get nothing in return. “I don’t need everyone in the castle to know that I’m going to the bathroom because my entourage is standing right outside, so just… wander a little bit. Look at the décor or something. Otherwise occupy yourselves.” She made a shooing motion with her hands in an effort to shuffle them along. 

Of course, they did not immediately jump to her demands. It was a damn shame, really; they should listen to their princess more. The expressions she was given were blank and bored, and she scowled darkly in response.

“Go! Shoo! What the hell do you expect can happen in the bathroom that I’m going to need any assistance in, anyways? Do you think I’m going to fall in the toilet? Break a nail washing my hands? What?” 

The guards exchanged a look with each other before standing firm, their hands tight fists on their chests in proud salutes. “Sorry, princess, but we have our orders.”

Aranathi’s expression was indignant. “From someone with more power than I?”

Both of them, and the handmaid, were all nodding vigorously. For a brief moment she thought to make a command that would overrule her father’s, since he was the only one in the castle whose status could possibly have been considered above her own, but then she took in the wide, panicked look in the two men’s eyes and came to an entirely alternate solution. The princess barely held back an almost inhuman growl. Oh. So that was the problem. Their orders were not necessarily from a status above her, just that the person who gave the order was much more terrifying than her. Well, two could play this game, then. Aranathi smirked darkly at the options.

“Gentlemen, if you do not give me my space within the next eleven seconds, I will inform her that you followed me into the bathroom and watched while I relieved myself.”

That did it. Both of them paled and scampered off down the hall as ordered. They didn’t even consider that her words well might be taken with a grand of salt, that they might have come out of it alright anyways; it was rare, after all, that the princess’s warrior ever did not listen to her, so she supposed that made sense. When Aranathi’s eyes turned to the maiden who had remained, she too was pale and shaking but remained where she stood. One manicured red eyebrow raised high on her pale forehead. Admittedly, the princess was impressed by her balls. Very few ignored threats made by the princess regarding her soldier.

“I-I-I-I know the L-L-Lady won’t m-m-m-mind!” she declared in a false bravado, but it was unclear if she was trying to convince Aranathi or herself. The auburn woman smiled in response, though it looked more like she was baring her teeth. Maybe because she was.

“Get lost.”

She did.

Satisfied that she could finally do her business in peace, Aranathi walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. The last thing she needed was for them to burst in if she took too long (in their own personal opinions) and caught her with her skirts down. Besides, it provided more of a chance to take a few breaths of air, now that she finally had some privacy and time to herself. Relieving herself was a rather speedy affair, considering the shortness of her simple castle dress and lack of excess skirts, so she took her sweet time cleaning her hands. 

For a moment she peered in the mirror, studying her eyes and her skin, poking at it lightly to make sure the bruises under her eyes were still hidden. Sleep had been a foreign agent last night, plagued with dreams of her warrior going to war and not coming back. The problem with being a princess, she decided, was that you would always have enemies – and if those enemies wanted to hurt you by taking someone you loved away, they would. Without hesitation, or remorse, or the slightest of concerns about anyone’s wellbeing but their own. 

A soft wind blew the hairs she had just scraped behind her ear back into her face, and the princess scowled. She looked to the open window and wondered who in the hell had decided to leave the thing open; that was how intruders got in to seemingly impenetrable fortresses, after all. Leaving it open was a daft thing to do. Not even daft; it was how idiocy and incompetence could kill the king and the royal family in an instant.

Of course, it was also a way to escape being followed without raising too much suspicion, she realized seconds later. Normally she didn’t make her escapes when she knew her soldier was out of the castle, but for some reason the castle was becoming unbearably suffocating. (Well, actually, when she thought about it, it wasn’t unreasonable that she was struggling for air – whenever she was “alone” in the castle, everyone hung around her heavier than a tarp. It just so happened that on this particular occasion, they were keeping closer this time due to the threat of war that had come to Castle Salazar like a plague of rumors.) Aranathi needed a chance to breathe air that didn’t hang stagnant over her head. She needed something more than what was being offered to her here and now. 

A devious smile curled her lips as she walked carefully over to the window, checking the door over her shoulder until she could casually lean out into the open space. The ground wasn’t too far, and the wall itself was covered in desert vine. It wouldn’t hold much weight, of course, but she could definitely use it sparingly to get herself lower before dropping to the stone walkway. Aranathi moved quickly before she could second guess her decision, throwing her legs over the sill and grabbing for the closest vine. It bent threateningly under her weight but she was already moving down, cutting the thirty-foot distance down to eight before she pushed off the wall.

Years with her guardian had taught her how to land without hurting herself, an important skill if her soldier was given any say, and Aranathi thanked the Great Goddess Zanu that she had been so thoroughly trained how to make a stealthy escape with only minor injuries at best. It had initially all been in her best interests, of course, so she could stay safe in the event of an attack should there be no one who could escort her out of danger, but the troublemaking princess had since found it to be beneficial for other reasons as well. Namely, of course, sneaking out of the castle without raising the alarm. Aranathi couldn’t help the smile that curled her pale lips. She was going to catch hell for this, she already knew… but if she was being honest she almost relished the idea. She had been ignored for too long since the threat of war had hung heavy over the castle. The princess needed attention from her warrior, and she was going to get in any way that she could.

However, getting over the wall was always a lot more challenging, and it wasn’t something that she could do on her own anyways. Even if she, by some miracle, had the ability to climb the forty-foot wall of her own accord, there was no way she could do it without someone noticing. Her first thought was to go to the stable quickly and scale the wall on Qui’s back, but then realized that the mountaineer was too obviously her own to make that passable either. The giant feline only left the castle grounds with her, never on her own, which meant that if anyone saw her wandering around they would know what was going on. Considering that Qui stood as tall as most of the horses, Aranathi wouldn’t be able to hide her, either. That left Arcania, then. 

Aranathi slunk around to the back of the castle, peering upwards towards the sun while using her hand as a shield. Finding the dragonling was rarely ever easy even if you knew where to look, however, so the auburn princess was forced to whistle for her softly, shooting a glance around to make sure no one had heard her. 

The wall came alive with a low rumble, which would have taken all the occupants by surprise if it was not a common thing nowadays. At least, now the people who lived within the compound had finally accepted their princess’s impulse-rescue. Well – strictly speaking – all of her rescues have been on impulse. When she had first walked in the front door of the castle clutching the then-calf-sized dragonling to her chest, everyone had been up in arms over it. One flash of her infamous puppy dog eyes, though, and Arcania was permitted to stay. She knew who her mama was, too. The bright red beast climbed face-first down the wall with a purr, coming to her master readily at her call. Aranathi gave her a kiss right between the large nostrils when her face got close enough before grabbing the small horn sitting atop her nose lightly.

“Arca, lift.” Instantly the princess was airborne as the large head lifted upwards, and she began climbing carefully up the dragonling’s wide face to crouch low between the scales on her neck. Once she was settled, Arcania was slithering back up the outside of the castle, rumbling wordless questions. With a smile, Aranathi started to crawl backwards towards her tail. “Arca, wall.”

The princess prided herself on this trick more than anything else. It had taken quite a while to teach, but the dragonling had eventually picked up exactly how to sit on the castle’s great wall so that her tail hung low over the correct side – and from there, Aranathi could drop to the ground and take off for town. The guards would all be so focused on trying to get the bright red beast back onto the castle instead of hanging off the wall that they wouldn’t notice their princess was making an escape. She still didn’t think they even knew it was how she got out. Her soldier might, but everyone else was still in the dark. Probably.

Arcania took a leap off the castle and flapped twice before she perched herself proudly on the wall between two guard posts. Her long, scaled tail draped over the side casually as though it had no other place to be. Immediately, the dragonling was swarmed by a handful of men all calling to her, trying to encourage her off the wall as they always tried to do like they had any control over her, and no one noticed the slim figure calmly slinking down the tail to the sandy ground. Aranathi touched down lightly and headed out through the desert, a smile taking residence over her face as she sucked in the clean, crisp air. She was going to have a lot of fun in town before anyone even noticed she was missing. Maybe being alone wasn’t so bad.

At least, that was what she thought. Maybe if she had listened more to what her guards had been saying, she would have known that the battle party had returned in the wee morning hours when their enemy had turned tail, and that she was officially no longer alone.

High up in the tower, arms crossed in front of her chest, a pair of molten golden eyes watched as her stupid princess made yet another escape. A soft sigh left her lips moments before they split into the smallest of smiles. She leaned against the cold stone of the wall, casually taking stock of the straightest path down from where she stood. The king was still seated at his desk, his attention mostly focused on the treatise papers sitting in front of him, but he could tell by the heaviness of her silence, by the way her body shifted, just what was going on down below. Quin sighed even heavier than she, wondering why he was stuck with such a daughter as his auburn-haired troublemaker.

“How in Zanu did she possibly get out?” he wondered half to himself as he leaned back in his chair, but he knew the red woman heard him. She always seemed to hear things, even when they weren’t said in her proximity. The king wondered if she had ears everywhere, or if telepathy was finally taking root. 

“Probably the bathroom. You know how she gets.”

Quintano laughed aloud. “True, true. Probably struck the fear of you in her guards and then made her escape the first chance she got.”

He could almost hear the smile in her voice, but he also knew he wouldn’t see it even if she was facing him. Somehow, she always managed to keep her face just blank enough that no one ever knew what she was thinking; only those closest to her could ever pick up on her emotions. “I believe my report is complete?”

“Yes, yes, off with you.”

Quin took the chance to remove his glasses and breathe in the fresh air through the now-open window, steepling his fingers in front of him. His bitterly amused blue gaze turned to look at his captain, eyes crinkling deeper at the corners when he saw the laughter barely smothered in the other’s brown eyes. He snorted.

“What a pair we have, huh, Morg?”

Morrigan nodded in agreement, a smile breaking out across his face. “Quite, my king. At least mine doesn’t cause trouble.”

Quin shot his captain a sharp look that died almost the second he saw the beautifully bright smile. “Maybe not trouble in the way mine does, but she certainly does create problems when her own soldiers sprint away from her in battle.”  
A casual shrug, another wicked grin. “So do her enemies. Hardly seems a loss.”

Laughter echoed around the small office, both men shaking their heads. Yes, what a pair they had. A princess and her knight. A bond forged in blood, sweat, and tears over the course of a decade and a half. It was no wonder the king felt confident in the future of his kingdom, even with his daughter’s tendencies of getting into trouble.

“Maybe someday she’ll settle down, my king.”

Quin looked to Morrigan, trying to keep the smile off his face. “My daughter or yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love my girls~


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally pushed past my roadblock, so here's the next chapter! Thanks to everyone for being so patient, I really appreciate it~

“Catch me if you can!”

Her long legs spun her around in a wild blur of elegant circles, and though the long golden strands of her earrings kept hitting her in the face each time she turned her head, the smile remained bright on her pale freckled face. Aranathi pivoted around on her bare toes, one tanned leg swinging out and around before gingerly tapping down and repeating the motion on the other side. Briefly, the princess wondered if she was going to get in trouble, then dismissed such a foolish thought. Of course she was going to get in trouble. She was breaking all of the most important rules that had been imposed on her. Did that really matter at the moment, though? Not really, at least not while there was a slew of children clamoring for her attention.

Laughing aloud, she dodged around one small human then leapt clean over another even smaller one. They all laughed and followed after her with wide smiles and extended arms, gleefully calling after her as she danced around in the dirt streets of the castle village. With each movement she made, the adornments scattered across her body jangled and chimed, eliciting awed “ohs” and “ahs” with each sound. Her smile was as blinding as the sun glinting on her bejeweled body, her laughter infectious as the little party moved down street after street.

It was times like these that she enjoyed the simplicity of her typical attire. It wasn’t like she could have changed between her escape and now, at least. A simple cream dress and gold accessories, a basic outfit for the Crown Princess. Her long red-brown tresses were the only splash of color on her body, tied up with a strip of fabric that had been around her wrist. Her companions were not dressed too differently themselves, save for the gold pieces, but with much darker hair and skin from pure blood and extended exposure to the burning sun above. The differences in their appearances, however, did not faze the small children as they dashed after her. She was thankful. Aranathi loved to be around the children, to help them have fun even when there was little cause for it. She knew, in a few years, they would eventually come to hate her as their parents most certainly hated her father. But maybe, just maybe, she would be able to remind a few of them that she had come to play on a regular basis. Maybe, just maybe, they would hate her less for it.

They made a right scene as they went down the way, and she didn’t miss the occasionally jealous stares mixed in with the glee of those who welcomed the joy she and the children brought to their little town with open arms. The jealousy came with the territory of being a princess and the decision to come skipping out on her chores through the town; while she disliked the emotion greatly, she knew there was nothing she herself could do about it. Not yet, anyways. She was still only a princess – it would several more years before she could become queen, if that was even what was in the cards for her.

Before long, however, the looks their precession received began to turn into those dark solely with jealousy and anger. Their eyes burned her even as she danced about, scorching her to her very core. She knew that they knew who she was and she knew how much they hated her for it, though personally she had done nothing wrong to them. It almost certainly didn’t help that she had neglected to remove her accessories before the escape. These people did not care that she had come to help the children have fun. All they cared about was their fury towards the crown. The weight of their hate was palpable in the air and it began to suffocate her, even though she refused to show it. Instead, she valiantly sought her way back out to the happier people who had enjoyed their game. Aranathi turned corners and spun down alleys. The quantities of people grew sparser and sparser as she went on, however, and she knew that she wasn’t going to be lucky that day.

When the princess rounded yet another corner with even fewer people littered along the road, she was unsurprised and certainly not unsettled to see a slew of men standing before her. That did not mean, of course, that she was thrilled to see them. Quite the opposite in fact, especially when her eyes landed on sheathed dirks and katanas and assorted other weapons, of which they likely did not have the proper licenses for as their kingdom demanded. She drew up sharply, her arms immediately reaching out and stopping the forward momentum of the children immediately following her. They clustered into a group behind her, the sharp scent of fear singeing her nose. It pushed her straighter in an effort to show strength, standing taller and prouder between the men and her newly claimed wards. She would protect them as much as she could. The men leered at her, their beady eyes roving slowly over her body in the most disgusting way she had ever felt in her life. It struck the rebellious chord within her immediately, and she fought the urge to recoil from their filth.

“He~ey there, princess,” one jeered out at her, one of the nastier ones if you asked her, “how’s about givin’ us some’a them jewels, eh?”

The princess knew what she was supposed to say, she’d been coached on it every day for her entire life, after all, but she couldn’t help herself either. Not when they were giving her such disgusting looks and acting the way they were when they clearly knew who she was. Straightening her spine, she drew herself up past her full height as her eyes flashed in a way she knew she couldn’t back up with her own strength. “You’ll have to come take them from me if you want them that badly, then.”

The men barely hesitated to accept her challenge, as though they had expected her words or maybe they would not have cared whether she had agreed to hand them over without a fight or not. Aranathi bit her lip hard, wondering what she was going to do, but then she saw the simple ring circling her finger flicker to life. A smile broke out across her face. They had assumed she was alone simply because they could not see her guard. Of course, she didn’t blame them; she often almost forgot about her herself, simply because she was used to her always being around. But in times like this, she found herself being all too aware of just where her blood warrior was.

A blur dropped down from somewhere far out of sight and landed solidly in front of her on the sandy street, a puff of sand billowing out from heavy boots and a heavier body. In that single instant, hell, even before she was fully touched down, their wide eyes were clearly visible as the men tried vainly to drag themselves out of their headlong run into death itself. Those eyes screamed that they knew full well what they had just sentenced themselves too. They knew that they had challenged the wrong entity. It was far too late now to not engage.

The princess stood back from the scuffle, merely directing the children away from the scene so as to make sure they didn’t get caught in the cross-fire. “One-sided massacre” seemed like an apropos name for the situation at hand, really. There wasn’t even a rattle of metal on metal; no one had been provided the chance to draw their weapons, never mind actually try to use them. It was all grunting, groaning, and sickening thuds, and all from the men who had charged her. Which Aranathi supposed was good, because it meant that her guardian hadn’t deemed them worthy enough to draw her own blades, also meaning that the men might just get to live just a little bit longer if they didn’t struggle too much. The princess simply focused on sending the children back to their parents, despite their light protests as they tried to peer around her to watch the systematic takedown of an entire mob of armed men by a single woman with curiosity-wide eyes.

Just as the last child was finally shuffled off home with the promise that she would come back shortly to play a little longer, she heard a sharp throat clearing from behind her and she knew the jig was up. Aranathi froze slightly before turning around with a winning smile, all innocence and brightness and absolute adoration (only the former of which was actually untrue). “Cairo! How strange it is to see you here!”

The red-headed woman standing before her, clad simply in a white button-down shirt and brown trousers – and decorated almost as heavily in weaponry as the princess was in jewelry – scowled ferociously at the aforementioned smile. With her thick arms crossed tightly across her chest and her golden eyes narrowed slightly, Cairo looked everything but amused and the too-bright smile her ward was flashing her was very clearly not helping her mood. “Princess... why don’t you remind me the very important rule I dictated for you, for the fifteenth time, might I add, just the other day?”

Aranathi looked at her for a brief moment before sending her gaze skyward, feigning a score of stupidity that she unfortunately knew would not work but she couldn’t help but try anyways. “Oh, um, well, you know, was it something like... the jewels don’t… leave the castle?” 

Cairo’s steel-melting expression did not change one iota. “And? What exactly has happened here, Your Highness?”

Aranathi shot her a sidelong glance through the loose strands of hair blowing across her eyes. “U-um, the jewels... left the castle?”

If anything, Cairo seemed to get even angrier at her answer, which was strange because she had been the one to ask for the information. It wasn’t Aranathi’s fault if she preferred being vague and questioning instead of verbally admitting to blatantly defying her personal warrior’s strict rules. If there was one thing the blood-red woman had proven that she hated, it was being ignored. Cairo was incredible at just about everything... including but not limited to terrifying everyone within a three-hundred-kilometer radius into obeying her every word. Except, obviously, her own ward. Maybe that was what had gotten her so mad?

Aranathi opened her mouth to question her motives, gently and in a way that would let her keep her freedom for the rest of the week, but Cairo apparently decided she was done with all this messing around with her ward for the time being. One minute she was standing a comfortable twelve or so feet away, the next Aranathi found herself staring at the ground and a very familiar rear end. Too familiar, if you were to ask her (though no one ever did). Not that it wasn’t a very nice rear end, what with all the training and working out that Cairo did on a regular basis, but that really wasn’t the point she was trying to make here.

“Cairo! Put me down this instant!”

Cairo, obviously, ignored her studiously as she started off with her princess over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. After being her personal, and more than often only, attendant for all these years, one would have thought she’d have picked up that you were not to carry princesses over shoulders like sacks of potatoes. Clearly that had not happened, and Aranathi came quickly to the conclusion that she just might have to chew off a few ears for it. “The jewels are going back to the castle as ordered by the king, my princess. I’m afraid I cannot defy his orders.”

Aranathi all but screeched. “What?! Don’t give me that bunch of dragon shit! You always defy his orders; hell, you just did yesterday! Now I command that you put me down right now, you ginormous pain in my – ”

“Now, now, princess, language; there are many small children around. You should know this; you’re the one who took them away from their families like a piper.”

“Cairo!”

The really only one-sided squabble continued for just a few moments more until the warrior’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly around the princess’s waist. Aranathi froze mid-rant to take a sharp inhale of breath. “C-Cairo, what are you... you wouldn’t d-dare...?” Her next words were cut off by her own shrill scream as they were suddenly airborne, soaring high up, up, up into the sky. They landed atop one of the buildings close by and then went sailing again, too-powerful legs and a sprinkle of magic carrying them high over the city below. Aranathi scrabbled at her warrior’s shirt, trying to get something to hold onto, even though she knew full well by now that Cairo would never dream of dropping her (she might wish it, but she would never actually do it). The blood-red woman would die before she allowed harm to come to her princess.

As terrifying as it was to fly through the air, it was also stunningly beautiful. The city below seemed to sparkle in the early morning sun, reminding Aranathi why she was so infatuated with returning on an almost daily basis, even though she was specifically ordered not to on an almost equally regular basis. However, even with the stunning view, that didn’t mean her ear-shattering shrieking didn’t follow after them all the way back home.

Once they were back safely on the wall surrounding the area around the great castle, Cairo set her down gently on her feet and Aranathi immediately crumpled into a pile as her knees gave out, though whether it was from the adrenaline still coursing through her body or the terror, she wasn’t quite sure. Her narrowed golden-brown eyes glared up at her warrior steadily, dark with poorly feigned malice, but the red-headed woman wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, she was surveying the men who had clustered around like they were no more than vermin. Aranathi mused to herself that was probably exactly what her guardian thought. For all her quirks and strengths, Cairo thought of men pretty exclusively as purely scum and despised the thought of one even looking at her, never mind touching her; which, naturally, had then lead to quite a few instances of stupid suitors making the wrong decision and far too many apologetic dinner dates (and comped healer’s bills) to make up for the powerful warrior’s reactions to simple human contact.

One of the men moved slightly closer to the pair of them, likely to help the downed princess to her feet, and instantly Cairo was on full alert even though they were simply the castle guards. Her fingers rested almost delicately on the handle of the long dirk at her side, but the relaxed position was truly a threatening one. Everyone who knew anything about her knew that she could draw her shorter blade in the same amount of time it took her to blink, and even less time to drive it into the tender meat of someone’s body. The guard froze instantly at the movements of the blood-red woman, and his dark hand moved slowly towards his own sheathed blade. Not that there was any belief that he could best her maneuvers, even though it wasn’t her dominant hand that rested on the hilt; the auburn princess assumed it was simply to make himself feel better. Aranathi held up her hands quickly in a placating gesture to stop the situation before it escalated to an even greater problem than it already had, like oh, maybe Cairo cutting off the brand-new wall captain’s head in front of all his men. She would do it, too. There was a reason he was new, after all.

“Cairo, easy,” Aranathi said calmly as she extended her arm upwards and the redheaded woman took it without even sparing a glance down at her, gently hauling the princess to her feet with ease though her other hand remained where it was on her blade, “they were just worried about me. No need to start a fight over nothing.” She turned around as she dusted off her pale dress and flashed her winning smile that seemed to work with everyone… besides the one person it actually needed to work on, of course. As expected, at her standing between them and her warrior, the other guards all relaxed and eased off their own weapons. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. How goes the inspection of the wall?”

The wall captain dipped forward in a deep bow. “Princess Aranathi, it is indeed wonderful to see that you are safe. Lady Cairo was indeed very worr –” A sharp throat clearing cut him off, and Aranathi didn’t have to turn around to know that the aforementioned “lady” was giving the poor soldier a death stare, especially not with the way he paled and swallowed hard. The princess had to chomp down on her lip to hide her smile as she nodded for him to continue on. He wrung his hands and started elsewhere. “The wall is looking well, Your Highness, very well indeed. There should be no problems with it holding should there indeed be another attack.”

“Attack threat,” came the low correction from behind, and this time Aranathi turned around to see her warrior staring off into the distance with cross arms as though the conversation at hand bored her. The princess knew she was surveying the land and checking for danger, but no one else could have guessed such a thing; Cairo was, after all, a very complicated being for anyone who didn’t know her inside and out like the princess did. Cold golden eyes shot to the side to stare at the wall captain stonily. “It was merely an attack threat, not a battle; don’t be feeding falsities around the castle and causing worry throughout the inhabitants.” A dark smile curled the one side of her mouth and sent shivers down the spines of even the strongest men. “You saw how fast they ran when they saw my approach. They wouldn’t dare do such a thing again.”

Aranathi chose not to mention that many of the castle’s more fresh-faced soldiers had more than likely run as well upon seeing Cairo in full battle armor. They always did. Hell, some of the veterans even backpedaled whenever she made her approach to the front lines. It wasn’t bad enough that her golden desert armor refracted the scorching sun and made her look ever bit of the avenging warrior goddess that came with her namesake, oh no. If her magical twin blades Solis and Lunis did not put a dead stop to all forms of rebellion, then her broadsword Immortalis would certainly do just that... and cause them to leave puddles behind them in their attempt to escape, almost certainly. 

However, Cairo despised cowards more than she despised men, so adding that little factoid would just add fuel to the burning hate fire of the soldiers she was supposed to be in charge of. Aranathi feared the day her general realized just how many of her men were actually terrified of her, and what she would do in their following exercises in an attempt to push that fear right out of them. She also was worried she wouldn’t have any good snacks to watch.

The captain of the wall guard seemed to think the same thing, for he ducked his head and nodded vehemently in agreement. “Yes, yes, indeed. But if another tribe decides to attack...”

“Then I will meet them head-on, just as I always have.” Cairo turned fully sideways then, giving them a full body profile as she loosened her crossed arms and dropped them down to the hilts of her twin blades. Aranathi didn’t miss how all the guards immediately stiffened. “And like they always have, they will either run or they will be run through.” 

The harsh whisper of metal on leather hissed through the air as she drew the twins and held them together. A low oath later, and the golden and silver blades twisted together to make the infamous bow that had never missed its target. Cairo drew in such a fluid motion it should have been illegal and then an arrow was in her hands, flaming with a little bit of breath, though where she was able to procure the damned things from was still unknown to the princess. Seconds later she released and off it flew, glowing ever so slightly as it sliced through the clear air. Her arms lowered, the blades separated, and she sheathed her swords just in time for a small explosion to be seen far off in the distance. Turning back to face them, she saluted far more formally than usual, to the point where it was almost mocking. 

“Target neutralized, my princess.”

Aranathi shot her a droll stare. “You mean the bandits from earlier?”

“But of course. What other target could I possibly be referring to?”

“Well, you know, there’s the baker from the other day whose cake deflated; and the chef from when he undercooked my eggs by a minute and a half two weeks ago; and the tailor who didn’t sew my hem right, though how you saw that I still have no idea; and then there’s the –”

“I see your point.”

Cairo didn’t even look abashed at all the people she had threatened with horrible injuries, death, or worse in the past month alone for stupid little things. Aranathi considered scolding her for her look of distant dismissal but then thought better of it. Nothing would come of it, anyways; Cairo was Cairo, and she would always threaten bodily harm if she felt like something improper had happened in Aranathi’s presence, whether it actually affected her or not. That was just the way she was, and if she was really being honest Aranathi liked her that way the most. Nonetheless, the auburn-haired princess sighed as though she was exasperated and shook her head with a tiny smile littering her features, as hard as she tried to squash it. She waved once to the wall guard and headed for the stairs down from the top of the wall, her guard immediately falling in behind her without needing to be called.

“Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” Her initial tone was teasing, but the response she received was not.

“Give me your orders and trust in me to protect you, at all times and for all eternity.”

Aranathi’s step hitched and she looked up at her then, surprised at the sudden change in the atmosphere at her soldier’s unexpected words. Whereas she had been playful before (rather, as playful as Cairo ever was), now she was solemn and serious, standing straight and firm. Her golden eyes were focused and intent as she stared steadily, unblinkingly, burning into her mistress’s own. Aranathi knew what brought this on. She knew why the bandits had been the target of her rage mere moments ago. This was but a moment of weakness, of needing reaffirmation in the subtlest way she could possibly ask for it, but that didn’t matter. The auburn princess was all too willing to do whatever her beautiful guardian needed whenever she desired it. 

A smile curled itself across the rose petal mouth against her will. Aranathi stopped at the doorway and extended the back of her right hand outwards towards her warrior. In a flash the red-headed woman was down on one knee with the proffered fingers in the gentlest grasp possible from her callous-hardened hands. Cairo’s slightly chapped lips dusted across the blemish-free knuckles as her own right fist drifted up to lay against her heart, a sign of absolute and singular loyalty. Aranathi’s smile grew wider as she gazed down at her single most important attendant, warrior, and friend. Her fingers curled slightly to grip her hand back, imperceptible to outside eyes.

“Then stand beside me forever more, my bravest soldier.”

The faintest brush of a smile tickled the backs of her fingers. “My soul is yours for all eternity, my princess.”


	4. Chapter Three

“This is absolutely absurd.”

Cairo didn’t even bother to look up from the pages she was flipping through as she calmly replied, “deal with it, princess.”

Aranathi scowled across the large bedroom at her warrior, lounging on the red and gold canopy bed as though it was her own, not that the aforementioned lounger noticed or cared about her discontent. If she was being honest to herself, Aranathi’s scowl really didn’t have all that much fire in it anyways, so it was probably for the best that Cairo didn’t look up. After all, this situation was far too rare to really be protesting against; seeing her blood-red companion doing anything even remotely close to relaxing was such a novelty that she was going to let this moment thrive for however long it deemed to do so. Even if she got ridiculed the whole time. Ridicule meant Cairo was feeling comfortable, and “comfort” and “Cairo” rarely ever coincided. The size of her ego was but a small price to pay to witness it.

A gentle clucking of tongue came as Aranathi moved too much to the side, and it was followed shortly by the light prick of a sewing needle in her abdomen. The auburn-haired girl hissed in shock more than pain, shooting another, slightly more menacing scowl (but not by much) down at the elderly maid currently sticking pins galore in the dress that was to be tailored for the upcoming dinner party. Nova didn’t bother to look at her, just continued to do her work. “If you don’t wish to be poked with needles, Your Highness, it would be best if you remained as still as possible and stopped shifting around like you were doing the pee-pee dance.” 

The snort she heard from across the room could only be Cairo smothering her laughter into her fist, and Aranathi briefly wondered how it was that the two most callous people she had ever met could simultaneously be the two that were so incredibly close to her. Despite those thoughts, however, she already knew how she had wound up intertwined with her faithful guardian and the woman who had been a second mother to her since her own had died. Cairo was always there for her, even when she really, really didn’t want her to be, and Novalene had dried her tears with her own apron, and made her favorite foods upon request and without complaint (or at least, not real complaint) more often than she cared to even try and count. But still. They really should be nicer to the only heir to their kingdom, the poisonous little bifts. Especially that red-haired one, since she was technically around to serve her for life. Serve, not torment. And yet.

A ball of paper hit her square in the side of the head and startled her out of her thoughts, and on engrained instinct her hands flew up and her body began to pivot around to see who and what had assaulted her. However, she had forgotten one crucial detail of her situation. Pain lanced through her as an entire row of needles jammed themselves into her side when the dress didn’t move but her body did. Stupid Cairo didn’t even flinch at her wail before she flipped yet another page over. Nova herself even only clucked at her some more as she checked her pins to make sure they hadn’t moved after jamming themselves into her skin.

“What the hell was that for?” Aranathi finally snapped after she had dried her tears and made sure there wasn’t any permanent damage to herself from the points of the multitude of needles. She couldn’t even rub the sting away, Ahreha damn it all, not without rubbing the pins back into her flesh. 

“Language, princess, you should really learn how to be more la –”

“Oh, bite me.” Aranathi scowled harder at her warrior, who still had yet to look up from her papers. “Aren’t you supposed to be my guardian, you little witch? Shouldn’t you be the first one at my side if I get injured?!”

Cairo flicked a glance at her from the tops of those golden eyes. “I hardly imagine that I need to save you from sewing needles, princess.” There was a glint in her gaze that was all too readable, even half-visible as it was. Aranathi wanted to throw something back at her. “As for the ‘that’ you referred to earlier, I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you were talking about. I have been laying here searching for new weapons for the past three hours. Is there something wrong with that? Does my dearest lady wish for me to do something for her instead?”

Aranathi motioned blindly for the paper that had dropped by her feet and Nova grudgingly handed it up to her. Using the most minimal movements possible, the auburn princess threw it back in her guardian’s direction. Naturally, it didn’t fly anywhere near to her bed where Cairo lay, but Aranathi didn’t really care at the moment anyways. It was the intention that mattered. “That, you wench.”

The golden eyes followed the paper as it floated through the air and dropped at least a solid eight feet in front of her. “Oh. That.” They returned to her. “What about it?”

“What reason did you have to throw that at me?”

Cairo’s attention returned to her papers as she absent-mindedly muttered, “it was a disgrace to weapons everywhere and needed to be put out of its misery. That, and I could all but hear your thoughts about me, and I wasn’t too fond of them. Two birds, one stone, milady.” 

Aranathi’s mouth opened and closed several times before she finally growled aloud and turned carefully away, planning on ignoring her arrogant warden. The nerve on that wench! However, even as those thoughts flit through her mind, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. As rare as it was for Cairo to relax, it was even rarer for her to crack jokes (and yes, despite the oddity of it all, it had been a joke the red woman had made). Cairo insisted it was on the basis of professionalism and the ability to instill fear into others’ hearts, but Aranathi knew differently. She knew all too well about her warrior’s past, and she knew even more of the horrible memories that the blood-red woman carried on her straight back and high shoulders. Moments like these, where her guard was down and her heart was just poking out of its armored shell, these were the moments the princess cherished most of all.

Fifteen more pins and twenty-three minutes later, and the castle’s best seamstress (and, arguably, its only; courtesy of Nova – or Cairo – scaring the others off when they got a single stitch wrong) stood with a flourish of her hands. “Aaaand, finished. You’re welcome to take the dress off now, my dear, and if you need help just let us know.”

Aranathi nodded with a teeny smile and opened her mouth but Cairo was already there, waiting patiently for her commands. Rough but careful hands reached out to gently pry the dress off of her bodice, taking note of all the pins and going to great lengths to avoid them when possible. It took an obscene amount of time to get the blasted thing off, but once she was free Aranathi put her hands on her hips and looked far too proud for needing help out of her dress, and for standing in the middle of her room in nothing but her under-drawers.

“Cairo, fetch me my clothes for the day,” she demanded as regally as she could manage while standing three-quarters nude. “I have an appointment with my father and the Captain of the Guard, and I would hate to keep them waiting.”

“They’ve been waiting for four hours already, my princess, I’m sure another few minutes wouldn’t hurt,” the warrior muttered under her breath even as she walked off to retrieve the summery dress that had been placed on her bed, after much debate. She extended the dress to her, but Aranathi’s arms lifted in silent command and Cairo scowled even harder. “Princess, I am your guardian, not your mother.”

“You are my attendant,” the princess corrected, flinging her arms around again in not-so-silent command, “now attend me.”

If looks could kill, Aranathi would have been dead ten times over for the look Cairo burned into her. Even still, the dress was slid over her head without the use of her own hands, and Aranathi checked herself quickly in the mirror before striding out the door with her head high. Muttering and oaths followed her out of her room and down the hall, all the way to the private dining area located on the far side of the castle, but the princess tuned it out. It was more common than not for her soldier to be pissed off to the point of laying curses up and down the halls of the castle, usually directed at the princess herself, but nothing bad ever came from it. If anything, Aranathi filed some of the more interesting ones away for her own use at a later date. Her soldier had quite the potty mouth, and it had gotten her into loads of trouble when they were both younger. As it was, Aranathi had quite the repertoire of phrases to use in less than pleasant company, and her father was none the wiser.

Two gentlemen butlers standing proud by the door noticed their approach and scurried to open the heavy doors with a flourish of waving hands and dipping bows. The young auburn woman beamed sunnily at them both as she all but skipped past. Based on the way the door slammed hurriedly behind her, she didn’t think Cairo was nearly as nice. Not that she was ever as nice, but sometimes she was at least personable.

The private dining suite was a fancy thing, directly attached to the kitchen but separate from the dining pavilion and the guards’ dining area, which were also attached to the kitchen via two of its other sides. It was expressly for the royal family, and a few of their choice staff and friends that were deemed close enough to be considered as such, and it was not obscenely fancy. A simple white cloth was thrown over the solid wood table, and several chairs were littered throughout the room in various quantities and styles. Generations had picked the chairs they liked most, and following monarchs had neglected to get rid of them all. The giant bay windows were the only real “selling feature” in the entire room, floor to ceiling glass panes that gave an incredible view of the garden, changed countless numbers of times by generations of royalty to fit their own personal standards. 

However, none of that was of any interest to the princess as she had only one destination in mind. She flounced right by any and everything and flung herself nearly completely across the largest chair, which also happened to also hold the largest lap. The king laughed aloud, a great booming sound that was not dissimilar to cannon-fire, as he looked down at his daughter with what could best be described as total adoration. 

“Ara, my darling, what brings you to my lap this morn?” Quintano inquired cheerily as he attempted to finish his tea and biscuits over her without dumping anything on her. It should have been an easy feat, for the king was quite the well-mannered man, if not for Aranathi’s constant shifting giving way to unanticipated movements of his own body. A few crumbs landed in her hair and his eyebrow raised, but he didn’t whisk them away either. Better to save that for once he was done, for surely there would be more until she finally settled down. 

Aranathi flopped a few more times like a slowly dying fish before settling with half her body draped over the sides, her hair hanging low and brushing the floorboards. “I thought you said you and Uncle Morg had something to tell me?”

Speaking of Uncle Morg... Aranathi lifted and turned her head around to look for him, and she wasn’t at all unsurprised to see him hanging all around her guardian. Cairo looked less than pleased with the attention, based on her crossed arms and semi-permanent scowl as the Captain of the Guard pinched her cheeks and cooed to her like she was a small child. In fact, she looked quite irritated and liable to punch him soon if he didn’t stop, but Aranathi wasn’t too worried. Worst case scenario, Uncle Morg would get another new scar with a story to add to his bountiful collection (he kept careful track of each of the wounds his adoptive daughter had given him) and Cairo would be forced to do something mildly demeaning like wear a dress or be polite for a full day as punishment like the last dozen or so times. 

The king paused for a moment as though he was remembering what that request had been for. He took his time draining the last of his cup of tea and shoved the last bit of cookie in his mouth before finally dusting his daughter off and helping her to stand up. Aranathi scowled slightly at him for using her as a napkin, not that there was any fire to it or that it was entirely his fault, but the expression faded quickly when she saw the look on her own father’s face. The king looked constipated almost, with his face scrunched and brows knit tightly. He motioned for her to sit down in the chair next to him and she did quickly, leaning forward across the table to listen to what he had to say in earnest. Morrigan joined him before he even had to be called, and the sudden presence at her back told her that Cairo had done the same. If she hadn’t been worried before (which she had, of course), Aranathi certainly was now. She suddenly feeling like she wanted to crawl back into her father’s lap and be used as a napkin again. Maybe that would prolong this conversation? 

Five heavy sighs, three neck scratches, and seven glances over his shoulder later, King Quintano finally opened his mouth. “Ara, my dear, I’m sure you know full well about the Quests.” 

She nodded slowly, unsure if she was a fan of the way this conversation was probably going. Quests were typically tasks created for the royal family, meant to conquer some great evil and bring about prosperity and riches to their lands. Generally, however, only the first-born men of the royal line went on these Quests to prove their ability to rule over the kingdom. Salaria had no such prince, and the coursing feelings in Aranathi’s stomach made her almost queasy with both excitement and dread. There was no reason for her father to be bringing up these dangerous adventures, unless…

Another glance at his captain, friend, and personal guardian. Morrigan reached out to lay a heavy hand on the king’s shoulder in silent support, and the grateful nod that followed was more than worrying. Her father was a strong man, but for him to be so shaken that he was relying so heavily on his soldier… this really wasn’t going to be good for her.

Quintano continued, “well, my dear, it seems the time has come for you to fulfill what you must to protect your kingdom.”

Aranathi was almost certain that the cracking sound behind her was Cairo’s grip on the back of her chair but she didn’t turn around to check it. Instead, she stared her father dead in the face to see if he was bluffing, though she already knew he wasn’t. Her father had a good sense of humor but he never joked when it came to her safety. Once she was satisfied she’d kept her calm long enough, she flashed a cheeky smile. “Where am I headed?”

Three pairs of eyes burned into her at her nonchalant response, either appalled or confused or maybe both in some cases. The only one she knew for sure was that Cairo was slowly filling with rage, based on the sudden increase in cracking from the poor abused chair. Aranathi still refused to look at her as she laced her fingers together in her lap and flashed her father another smile as she awaited his answer. Looking at her warrior, especially with her expression no doubt being more relaxed than it was expected to be, would only serve to enrage the blood red woman infinitely more, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted to have happen. 

When the king’s mouth moved but no sound came out, Morrigan stepped in for him. “The Council has requested for the immediate removal of the srameel that has been terrorizing the cities near our border with Anglede.”

The back of her chair all but snapped off, and if Aranathi was being honest she didn’t blame her warrior for her violent reaction. Hers would have been similar had she had that same obscene amount of strength flowing through those thick arms. For all of her cheekiness before, Aranathi could feel herself paling slightly at the order. A giant type of reptilian that dwelled exclusively in the sand, srameels were incredibly dangerous creatures, not so much as sercets but far meaner and definitely more liable to attack humans. They hated people, hated their very existence, and generally liked to use their bones to pick a multitude of triangular dagger teeth. The last one that had strayed too close to Salaria’s towns had required three platoons of men and finally Morrigan himself to take it down. On a Quest, she was to remain under the radar as much as possible, so it would only be a handful of people at most accompanying her. And Cairo, of course, but her strength only went so far.

“They want what?” Cairo spat finally, words flying out of her mouth like a viper’s poison. Aranathi didn’t have to look to know those golden irises were burning with the flames of hell trapped inside them. “Do they want to lose their only heir to the throne?!”  
Morrigan’s expression was darker than the princess had ever seen it. “It was Bogette who suggested it. What do you think?”

With a roar of sheer fury, the back of the chair went flying into the distant corner of the room and, based on the crashing that followed shortly thereafter, it didn’t land harmlessly. Red hot flames flooded the room, drenching them all in the force of her fury, and even the auburn princess ducked slightly at the suddenness of it all. There was a shriek and a slamming of doors followed shortly by yells coming from the hall. Aranathi was on her feet a second after, and one hand reached out to grab her guardian’s upper arm with a grip firm enough to bend steel. Or chain an enraged woman with the power to level a small city to her side.

“Cairo. Breathe. Come back to me.”

She repeated this mantra over and over. It still took a few moments for the words to filter through to her warrior’s mind, but eventually the ripcord muscles released the tension that had flooded them. The dark grey smoke streaming out of her nose with every breath slowed and eventually faded, though some of the flames still burned on the floor at her feet. Aranathi kept her eyes locked onto Cairo’s, keeping her grounded and calm. The princess’s grip loosened only after those molten gold eyes flickered back to life, and it was then that she slowly reeled the larger frame into her lithe body, palm sliding down the thick arm to gently lace their fingers together. A shuddering breath left Cairo’s lips as her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat or two to rebalance herself.

“Apologies, my princess, I just –” She cut herself off mid-excuse, muscles tightening again for a moment until her hand was squeezed gently. Aranathi reached up with her other hand to palm her warrior’s cheek and direct her smoldering eyes to her own.   
“My uncle is a cruel man, you know that as well as I,” she murmured in as soothing a tone as she could manage, while the second-hand adrenaline slowly began dissipating from their bodies, “and his actions against me do not phase me any longer. You need only protect me from the physical dangers, not the mental ones.”

Cairo dropped to one knee in an instant, keeping her one hand in Aranathi’s grasp, the other hand coming down over the still smoldering blaze and squashing it immediately with the meat of her palm. She did not look up as she muttered, “and yet I shall still try my hardest to do so.”

Aranathi smiled down at her gently and was reaching out to card her fingers through those long red tresses when the door was suddenly thrown open forcefully, smashing against the walls on either side and likely leaving large dents in place of the heavy handles. In an instant Cairo was flipped around, her grip tightening around her princess’s hand, seeming ready to either attack or throw the princess over her shoulder, whichever one was more necessary, but instead she became a statue at the sight that welcomed her. If only the auburn princess could have seen the expression that was no doubt sprawled across her face, for she figured she knew exactly how her warrior looked in that instant but it didn’t have nearly the same effect when she was unable to witness it. Pale-faced and slack-jawed before the only person who could ever catch her off guard. The corners of the princess’s mouth ached at the effort of repressing her smile.

Novalene stalked into the pavilion with a cast iron frying pan in hand, lightly tapping it against her open palm as she surveyed the room for the damage she had no doubt been informed about by the poor folks that Cairo had terrified earlier. A faint smog still hung heavy in the air above their heads, so Nova knew something had gone down. It wasn’t long before her sky-blue eyes landed on the new scorch mark marring the long, hundred-year-old rug under the table and darkened to cerulean. 

“You little snot-nosed, arrogant, spitfire, heathen of a – ”

Cairo was on her feet in an instant, finally releasing Aranathi’s hand in order to quickly dart over to the side and out of the room through the kitchen, putting as much distance between her and the short but enraged woman as quickly as she could. Nova followed after her as quickly as her stubby legs could carry her, her voice carrying from four rooms over as she chased the redheaded warrior around the castle, a not unfamiliar sight for all those who lived there. Aranathi exchanged looks with her father and smiled slightly. Though the tension had waned, however, it had not dissipated. The king’s face was suddenly pulled and weathered, as though simply giving his daughter that heavy information had aged him ten plus years. With a soft sigh she crossed over and nestled herself back into his broad lap, curling her body up and around in a very unladylike fashion (more childlike than anything, not that anyone would dare tell her that), and in return he wound his arms around and held her tight as though he would never let go. They were silent for a long while, just breathing each other in; her listening to the steady, comforting drum of his heartbeat, him feeling her small body against his in a way that brought to him memories of her youth, and of his own as well.

“Ara...” The king’s voice trailed off as he buried his face into her long hair, wishing not for the first time that she had stayed small forever, or at least for several more decades. As she was now, his daughter was a target for the enemies of the crown, both those who wanted it for themselves and those who simply wanted to destroy the country they dwelled within. Aranathi hummed in understanding to his unspoken words and twisted slightly, her nose wedging itself in the space between his thick neck and broad shoulder, and closed her eyes. 

“Papa, I’ll be fine.” Her words were muffled by his body but he still heard them loud and clear. They reverberated up through his body with a promise he knew she felt with all her soul. “You know Cairo would never let me be hurt.”

Quin almost chuckled, his barrel chest heaving, though it also could have been from barely stifled tears. “Yes, the entire world knows of such a thing, my dear. As safe as I know you should be in her care, however, I still worry. You, with your stubbornness and your impertinent attitude,” he put special emphasis on her less-than-savory traits and Aranathi would be lying if she said she didn’t avert her eyes at his tone even though he couldn’t even see them, “make keeping you safe an almost impossible feat for even Cairo, though she does somehow manage to keep your injuries to an extreme minimum.” His arms came around her tighter, all but squeezing, and for a brief moment the princess wondered if she intended to squeeze the life out of her in order to keep her close. “Please, my little hellion, for the sake of my heart and health, please...come back to me safely.”

Water filled her eyes. The auburn-haired daughter pressed her face tighter into her father’s warmth and nodded as best she could, not trusting her voice to come out. Instead, she just nestled closer to her father’s broad chest, allowing the warm scent of home and safety and protection lull her body into a more relaxed state. She did not sleep, however, knowing that it would be quite a while before she got to hear her father’s drum of a heart, and she didn’t want to miss one second that she had remaining.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The losers prepare for a ball, and basically no one is happy about it.

“Don’t go.”

Aranathi paused in her packing to look over at blood red warrior with a single raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Arms crossed tightly over her chest, Cairo pushed off the door jam and stalked across the room towards her like a mountaineer. It had been nearly a week since the princess had been told that she was to go on a Quest, and her blood red warrior had barely spoken to her through it. In fact, she had barely been in the castle, venturing out the town in search of items and Zanu knew what. The princess watched silently from her place by the bed, studying the stiff gait and tightened body like it was a book about to tell her all the secrets within. Saying Cairo wore her emotions on her sleeve was a bit of a stretch; the only reason Aranathi was able to catch them was how in-tune she was with the fearsome woman’s body language. It was a feat only achieved after years upon years of careful cataloging and pausing to understand the mind of her brave soldier, and there was no way anyone could ever know her soldier the same way the princess did.

Cairo was doing her best to hide it, but Aranathi could read her clear as day. She was angry, yes, of course she was – for years, the general had wanted Uncle Bogette’s head for her wall, and this instance just added fuel to the fire of her smoldering hatred – but she was also worried...and that worry made her all the more aggravated by the situation. It did not escape the auburn princess’s observation that she still favored her left hand as well; when Nova had finally caught up to her, the cast iron skillet had made sure she was suitably punished for the scorch on the heirloom rug. Aranathi doubted she had done as she was told and taken the week off of practicing to let it heal up, either. Actually, she knew she hadn’t, not when she was about to go on an adventure that needed her to be as sharp as her swords. Which, almost certainly, compounded the problems of her grip and enraged her further due to the possibility of failing when she couldn’t afford to fail.

“I said don’t go.” Cairo stopped in front of her, using those four extra inches of height to stare down at her with cold golden eyes that brooked no argument. There was a darkness roiling around her. “Refuse the Quest.”

Turning away from her with a soft sigh, Aranathi continued to pack her bags. She wanted to, oh did she want to, but. “You know I can’t do that, Cairo. Especially not on my first Quest, and definitely not when I don’t have a good enough reason.”

“There is plenty enough reason to refuse it, Aranathi.”

Her slim hands stilled in their folding. The only time her given name was ever uttered out of that harsh mouth was when Cairo was at her wits’ end. This time, when she looked up into her guardian’s face, she actually looked. Her golden-brown eyes studied the woman before her, taking it all in. Cairo stared straight back at her, fists clenching and unclenching as she tried to hide it, but it was too late. Aranathi saw it all. The kohl used every so often to accentuate those bright golden irises was darker this morn to hide the faintest of bruises darkening the tanned skin under her golden eyes even further, and her lips were painted a slightly darker hue in a very uncharacteristic manner. Her general never wore makeup on her mouth. Aranathi reached up to lick her thumb before she swiped a gentle yet firm finger across Cairo’s bottom lip, removing the paint and revealing skin bitten raw and marked with sharp teeth. Clearly, in the week she had been away, the warrior had been driving herself into a corner deep in the recesses of her own mind...and Aranathi hadn’t even known. She ached.

The auburn princess sighed yet again as she stepped away from her bag and into her companion’s chest. Her pale, freckled forehead landed solidly on the swatch of fabric just above the moderate bosom. Cairo barely breathed as Aranathi leaned against her, putting all of her weight into the pressure of her forehead, grounding her. They stood still, unconnected but for that one spot of skin on fabric, breathing as one with heartbeats synced. It took but a moment before Cairo’s arm twitched almost imperceptibly and Aranathi took the barely-there sign as one of a desire for more; in response, she immediately wound her own arms around the firm torso, sliding herself up under that arm and burying her face into that familiar smell, that warmth. 

“Cairo...” she murmured, her voice low. “I have to. You know that.” The body she held stiffened, filling with ideas and plots and whatever else to get them out of it, to get her out, but Aranathi just held tighter and hushed her. “Cairo, please. Let me do my duty to my kingdom, without using other methods to go about it. For once, I need to do what my people expect of me, as their princess and future queen. I need to do this for them instead of trying to get out of it.”

Slowly the too-tight body relaxed and the breath left that strong chest as though she was a balloon that had been popped. Calloused hands gently touched her arms, reaching around, trying to pull her off. Shaking her head furiously in refusal, the auburn princess tightened her grip even more and buried her face into the soft cloth. She needed this, needed the contact she had been deprived of for so long, and so did her soldier, she knew that. No one else was ever allowed to hold Cairo like this, the red warrior never would let them. And yet, she was as needy for physical contact as Aranathi at times, especially ones like this. Without physical contact, she was left floundering, hiding away. They both needed this. All she had to do was convince her.

“Ro...”

Hearing the nickname that was so rarely used caused Cairo’s body to deflate, draping over her ward’s small frame as though she could consume her and hide her away and never let her go. Aranathi hummed a familiar tune, their favorite, as she ran her lithe hands up and down the broad, muscular back reassuringly. Cairo’s strong fingers seemed to subconsciously slide through her long hair and over her shoulders and down to her narrow waist, where they clutched her close as though there was no plan to let her go. Her face dropped down into the space where Aranathi’s shoulder curved upwards into her neck and buried itself there. The cold bite of metal against her warm flesh reminded the princess of all the sacrifices her blood red warrior had made to protect her, the blood and sweat and tears, the flesh and bone she had willingly provided without complaint, and for a brief moment Aranathi felt a smothering pang in her chest. Cairo had given her so much while asking for nothing in return, and this was how she was going to repay her? By terrifying her and putting both their lives at risk? She had to be the worst person in the entire world, she was just – 

“I knew the risks when I signed on, milady.”

Aranathi startled slightly out of the twisting vortex that was her thoughts, but Cairo’s words had been uttered only as she drifted away into oblivion. Even she could not burn the candle to the end without suffering some repercussions. While the warm breaths into her neck finally slowed and steadied, the door to her room creaked open ever so slightly. Morrigan poked his dark head into the room and smiled softly at his two girls. Aranathi smiled back with an expression that she was sure hid absolutely none of her emotions. Morrigan approached carefully, trying to make sure he did not wake the sleeping soldier, and drew up to her side a few moments later, gently unwinding Cairo from her still surprisingly strong embrace and slinging her limp frame over his shoulder. The princess mused to herself that the captain must be why she was so insistent on carrying Aranathi over her shoulder, since it was probably what she was used to, but she didn’t dare mention it. Cairo shifted, snorted softly, then relaxed back into sleep. Morrigan sighed before rustling the princess’s tresses just like always. 

“She paced the whole night through again,” he explained with a soft expression best described as fond irritation for the child he had all but raised. “Very few of us wouldn’t have gotten much, if any, sleep in the last week, but she made sure we all suffered the same as she over this thing.” He patted the back stretched over his shoulder with his own downtrodden smile. “Her bags are already packed and waiting, Your Highness, have been since we received word; whenever you are ready to move out, so is she.” He dipped his head to her and turned to go, but the small hand gripping the back of his shirt stopped him mere seconds later. He turned his head slightly to glance at her from the corners of his eyes.

“Uncle Morg... am I doing the right thing?”

Morrigan pursed his lips, contemplating. “You’re not doing the wrong thing, if that’s what you’re asking. Objectively speaking, the srameel needs to be taken care of. Had we been invited sooner, it would have been handled weeks ago, but the village had not yet asked the royal guard to take care of it. You are the heir to the throne of Salaria, and as a result it is your duty to protect our kingdom. By accepting their Quest, you are following through with your duty and your kingdom will thank you for it.” He turned halfway back around to look at her with those dark eyes, relatively blank from a politely removed standpoint. “Just because it is what’s right, however, does not mean those that love you still want you to go through with it. Are you sure you really want to?”

Aranathi twisted her fingers around each other as she thought. Her bottom lip slid into her mouth briefly as she warred with herself, her thoughts going back and forth for a brief moment, but she already knew what she would decide. It wasn’t a hard decision, after all. Her spine straightened as she steeled herself with a deep breath. “I will. It needs to be taken care of and the Council of Salaria has asked me to do it, so I shall whether my family approves it or not.”

Morrigan was silent for a while as he studied her, but she did not falter. She instead lifted her head, tightened her jaw, and though the hands twirled in the skirt of her dress shook, her gaze did not. A small smile curled the corners of his lips before he turned around fully and dipped his head again, deeper than before, and lifted his free hand to his chest.

“Of course, Princess Aranathi,” he rumbled with a Cheshire grin stretching across his face, “we will follow you anywhere.” 

Once he had left, and taken the soundly sleeping body of Cairo with him, Aranathi turned her attention back to her bags. She paused as she studied the slew of clothes across her bed. Was she packing too much? She’d never been on a Quest before, obviously, so she hadn’t the foggiest what was required and what was not. It probably didn’t make sense to take too much, since they’d be traveling incognito and without a large convoy. They would only be able to bring what their mounts could carry. Briefly she contemplated asking her father about it, seeing as he had gone on his fair share of adventures when he was still the prince, or Morrigan considering it had been he who had accompanied him, but then she thought better of it. Otherwise she knew she would get caught up in their tales of years past, and then she would never leave. Which meant, of course, that she was on her own for packing. She could maybe ask Cairo, seeing as she knew a thing or two about packing for travel... but she had a sneaking suspicion that the blood red woman would neglect to mention something important, forcing them to turn around once it was discovered to have been forgotten.   
Her family sucked. She loved them so much it hurt.

A knock sounded at her door and she absently invited the waiting guest in. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the door swing open, and moments later she got the prickling sensation to duck. Right after she hit the floor, something else hit the wall where she had been standing, and she thanked Cairo under her breath for the unwanted lessons in basic survival training. Aranathi looked up immediately, indignant and ready to fight back, but felt the blood drain from her face at what she saw standing before her. It was arguably the most terrifying sight she had ever seen in her life, and that was including the time she had accidentally walked in on her father while he was in the shower. (Morrigan hadn’t let himself, or his king, live it down in the years since.)  
Novalene.

The gray-haired woman stood before her, hands on her hips, a deep scowl marring her normally beautiful features. With her bright blue eyes narrowed into sharp slits she looked about ready to commit murder. Based on how far she had thrown that frying pan, Aranathi figured she must have felt liable to do it, too. She wondered briefly if she should make an effort to escape, maybe crawl under her bed, but knew better than to even try. Nova did not take kindly to those who attempted to escape her justice. 

“What in the name of Ahreha are you thinking, you stupid girl?”  
Aranathi had to bite her lip to stop from “ooh”ing like a child. Ahreha was the goddess of the damned, and using her name in common talk was similar to the most, well, damning of curses. Violent and crass, Ahreha was a demon of a woman who made even srameels and sercets look like nothing more than bitty bifts. Normally people chose her younger sister Windeba, goddess of the dead, when they wished to cuss in the name of a goddess. The use of the elder sister’s name was a sure sign that Novalene was struggling with whether or not she wanted to strangle her country’s princess. Aranathi stood with a small smile on her face before tackling her nursemaid, thin arms twining around her ample waist and face disappearing into her bosom. 

“Novaaaaa, you know I love you. You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to, but I have to do this. I was entrusted with this mission by my country, and it is my duty to fulfill it, no matter who it hurts.” 

The gray-haired woman clenched her jaw, surely ready to bite her head off, but then relaxed reluctantly and wrapped her own arms around her darling ward. A weathered hand traced through her hair, causing a sigh to leave the princess’s lips as her eyes shut of their accord. Oh, how she missed these moments. In a single breath she could travel back in time to when she not but five years old and her mother would lay in bed beside her and tell her stories while Novalene made sure they were safe and secure and tucked in. However, she had grown up quite a while ago, her mother had been buried for going on thirteen years now, and Nova no longer needed to keep her safe. It was time for her to take the next step to becoming queen, as that was likely what awaited her in the coming years. With a heavy sigh and a gentle pat, Novalene seemed to recognize that fact. Gently she peeled the young princess off her body and gazed at her with weary eyes.

“Just promise me you will not fight her this go round,” she whispered firmly, blue gaze hardening slightly. “If Cairo tells you do something, or to not do something, I expect that it will be adhered to immediately and without complaint, correct?”

Aranathi wanted to argue, for no other reason than to argue, but instead simply closed her mouth and nodded in response. If she was being honest, even she believed she would obey her blood red warrior’s wishes on their dangerous trek through territories she had never before breached. Cairo had already been all around the country on missions and crusades, even before she was General, keeping the people of Salaria safe at the side of the captain, but the young princess herself had never gone further than the town right at the edge of the castle grounds. Even there, she had only been allowed a few moments of peace before she was collected and dragged away. She knew not what she faced out in the world beyond the wall of Castle Salazar, but she did know this: things were about to get very complicated, very dangerous, and very terrifying very, very soon.

Seeming content with the princess’s quiet agreement to her request, Novalene released her iron grip and patted her head motherly. “Good. Now, let’s get you ready for the announcement ball tonight, hm?” 

For the first time in quite a while (at least, relative to how often it was usually expressed – which was every five minutes, typically), Aranathi gave her former nursemaid a droll stare. “What if I don’t want to go, hm?”

Nova laughed lightly, a sound that reminded her of all things bright and cheery, as she whisked past the princess and into her closet. Her voice could be heard through the open door as she flung dress after dress over her shoulder after deciding they weren’t worthy of this particular event. “Apologies, dear one, but alas you have not a choice in this matter. This ball is perhaps your most important one yet; you shall not miss it, mark my words.”

With a heavy huff of breath and a petulant pout, the auburn princess sat on her bed with her arms crossed tight over her chest and a slouch in her posture. Under her breath, she muttered some choice words that detailed just how she felt about the ball, and none of them made it seem like she was looking forward to it. Her words turned into an indignant squawk when a swatch of fabric hit her square in the face. When Aranathi finally pulled her face from its depths, Novalene was already long gone out the door, likely to search for poor maids to throw into the room with her. Aranathi held the dress in front of her and grimaced slightly before shrugging and dropping it to the bed beside her. 

By the time the three young castle maids Nova had found, all wringing their hands nervously like they feared they would be eaten by the Big Bad General, arrived at her door the princess had already undressed from her relaxed attire and redressed herself in the long cream number that had been chosen for her. It was just a simple style, tight around the torso and billowing out further the lower it cascaded. The sleeves were long and tight to her arms and the front came high on her chest, but the cut-out of the back was deep and rounded at the bottom, exposing almost her whole back. The only decoration on the soft silk fabric was the light golden filigree curling around her bosom in swirling fingers. It was one of her fancier gowns that she had buried in the back of her seemingly bottomless closet made specifically for occasions such as this, one that she had yet to wear. However, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she still felt overdressed and there was little that could be done to placate her otherwise. 

Her feelings about the dress didn’t mean the maids were going to let her get away with minimal else, either. They bustled her to her boudoir and fussed about how she was to sit like a lady without crinkling her dress for a long while. Once Aranathi was finally seated on her red plush stool, the handmaidens scampered around her like critters in an effort to finish her up quickly. One curled her hair in delicate ringlets and laced them through one another into an intricate piece of art while a second poked through her jewelry box, held up a necklace, frowned, and put it back before picking up another and repeating the process. The third placed a pair of golden heels carefully on her feet, checked the fit, and then changed them to a different pair. It took all of three hours before the three maidens were done with her, despite her best attempts to convince them that she looked perfectly fine and to stop freaking touching her, at which point Novalene (thankfully) knocked on the door and announced that it was time to head to the ballroom. Whether the girls were satisfied with their work was invalid, because now they had to let her go. The doors swung open, and Uncle Morg stood beside the much shorter woman with a beaming smile pasted across his face. It only grew when he saw her.

“Ara, my dear,” he greeted as her slim hand wrapped around his proffered arm, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her temple despite the squawking of the women around him (minus the princess, of course, she always readily accepted affection from her family), “you look absolutely wonderful.” His eyes grew misty. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Aranathi smiled slightly and squeezed her grip a little tighter for a moment. “I know she’s still watching over me, and you and Father, of course.”

Morrigan chortled as he started off down the long hallway with her skipping along at his side. “Oh, very true! I’m sure she’s ready to come down and smite us all more and more by the day. Your mother never did like our antics. Especially when your father... no, I can’t tell you that story, the king would have my head.”

With a petulant groan, Aranathi yanked on his arm as though she could slow him down until he told her, which only served in making him laugh louder as he literally dragged her along the length of the corridor. The entry point for the royal family into the ballroom was on the second floor of the castle with the bedrooms, but naturally in a totally different wing that sat across almost the whole width of the castle. It was a design flaw that she wondered if her ancestors regretted shortly after completing the build.  
Morrigan alternated between dancing with her and carrying her all the way to the wide decorative doors that lead to what was already the very bane of her existence. Her father had beaten her there, of course, waiting for her with a tentative smile on his face until his eyes landed on her and his face went slack. Morrigan released her then and she waltzed towards the king, cheeky as a bift. Quin took her dainty hand in his large ones and his eyes welled.

“Oh, my sweet...” he murmured, his eyes trailing over her once more, “when did you grow up so much?”

Aranathi felt her own eyes water despite herself. “Papa...”

With a fierce shake of himself, Quintano dried his eyes and motioned for someone to approach. She turned to look, curious, and gasped softly at what she saw. Carefully he took the small tiara from the red silk pillow and placed it upon her head with more reverence than she had ever seen her father show before. Aranathi’s eyes, round and wide, stared searchingly at his face but he revealed nothing but a sad smile.

“Your mother would have wanted to put this on you for an occasion such as this,” he said finally, his dark eyes straying to the tiara for several more heartbeats before he was able to wrench them away. “It’s time you finally looked the part, my dear.”

The doors opened as he lifted himself back up and turned around, a soldier announcing his arrival and for “all to rise.” The crowd clustered in the ballroom was lead readily into a chant of “long live the king!” and Aranathi swallowed hard. Suddenly, the full meaning behind this ball hit her. She was going to be officially recognized as a princess, as the princess, as the future ruler of this country. Suddenly, moving seemed like a thing of the past. As did breathing. Her rounded eyes turned towards Morrigan just as his hand brushed over her shoulder, sliding down her limp arm to gently pull her useless hand to his forearm once more.

“Are you ready, my princess?” he asked lowly against her ear as the doors opened once more. Swallowing hard as she steeled herself, Aranathi nodded faintly in response.

“As I’ll ever be,” she murmured just as the soldier announced, “please welcome the first princess of Salaria, Aranathi Belveda Salali!”

They walked through the doors, and she was lost in the cheers.


End file.
